Twisted
by johnlockedthetardis
Summary: S.Heidsick 2014 A prison riot is the perfect distraction for Louis' escape plan. Will he be caught before the police find him? Or will a little extra incentive from his friends keep him hidden within the walls of the city?


Alright, look, I didn't want to end up like this. I don't think any of us did. I know, I know. I made stupid decisions, but how is that going to help me now? Try and answer that. I just need to figure a way to escape. That'll do it. I'll just cut the bars and crawl out. If only I could distract the guards.  
As if someone read my mind, a can flew across the institution. Shouting ensued and I smiled to myself. Prison riot. Wrenches were taken from their hiding spots and hammers were retrieved from the breaks in the walls. Prisoners ran out of their cells, screaming war cries as they beat their victim to a pulp. Those who didn't want to die in this hellhole stayed in their cells.  
A man was pressed up against the door of my enclosure, punched before blacking out. "Hey, come join us, man! It ain't a riot without you."  
"No thanks, Higgins. I've got my own agenda for tonight." I turned and slid the sawblade out from under the wall. I had to be quick, or the guards would catch me and throw me into maximum security. I've waited for too long to be thrown right back to where I started, and I think it's time to stop waiting.  
I got to work. The bars were thin, weak. I broke through the first within a minute. Guards filed into our wing and started shouting. I had two minutes at most. The bars snapped quickly under pressure and I grabbed the saw blade as I jumped out of the opening. I wasn't free until I got over the fence. Freedom was just on the other side. Just across the field.  
I sprinted across the wet grass, the night sky making vision difficult. Shouts echoed from the watch tower and shots rang out. I felt a pain in my shoulder but I didn't even blink. The adrenaline was flowing through my body and I was high on excitement. I reached the fence and crawled over the barbed wire, scraping my hands. Once my feet hit the ground, I kept running. I ran and ran until I thought I lost the cops. Then, I ran and ran some more to tire myself out.  
My smile didn't stop as I climbed up an apartment's fire escape, reaching the roof. I hid inside of a shed, invisible from helicopters. Freedom. Finally. I was in that prison for 8 years and the city never felt so great. I took off my jumpsuit, wearing a tank top and jeans. I was buried deep in the shed, covered by the cockroach infestation. I scoured the small room for bags and, sure enough, I found the wallet of some oblivious dumbass. I took a 20 and climbed back down the stairs.  
It was at least 9 and none of the stores were still open. I wasn't going to steal. Then I'd be labeled as Dangerous. It's not like I'm not dangerous in the first place. I was supposed to be stuck in that prison for 27 years. What did I do, you ask? Funny story. My childhood wasn't exactly fine and dandy. My mother and father fought everyday and it was a very abusive relationship. My father killed my mother when she didn't clean the house. He just beat her until she gave up. He, of course, was sent to prison and I was sent to a foster home. I didn't talk to any of the children and I didn't eat. They sent me to a therapist, who diagnosed me with anorexia and depression. They didn't need a therapist to figure that out, but I didn't really do anything about it. I just kept quiet and did whatever I was supposed to. I was sent to a mental ward. Sunnyvale Meadows as they called it. I was placed on suicide watch and when a man came in to force feed me, like always, I lost it.I stabbed him to death with a makeshift knife and I didn't even think twice about what I was doing. That's why I was sent to prison. That was 8 years ago. I'm 21 now and I think I can handle myself.  
My picture would be on the news by tomorrow morning and I wouldn't be able to do much. I'd need a messenger, or a new identity. I hurried over to the closest office and walked in slowly, asking the woman at the front desk for an ID.  
She asked me for my name and I hesitated, thinking of the common surnames for the area. "Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson."  
After that, I wasn't in need of any improvised answers. After waiting for a few hours, she shuffled out of the back room with a card in her hand. I examined my picture and sighed. My hair had grown longer, my lower jaw speckled in stubble. Before leaving, I stole a glance at the clock on the back wall. It read 4 am, so I only had a few hours before my picture would be scattered across the news. The police were already looking for me, no doubt.  
I thanked her quietly and headed to the diner across the street. It's fluorescent lights flashed through the darkness and the street looked shady, a bit unreliable. I smiled to myself, "Perfect."  
Walking in, my eyes struggled to adjust to the change of brightness. I took the booth that was closest to the exit and scanned over the menu. A stout woman with a hair net scuttled over to the table and took my order, squinting slightly.  
Her voice was raspy and a skeptical look covered her face, "Have I seen you before?"  
I shrugged and ran a nervous hand through my hair, "It was probably my brother. He was arrested a few years ago, murder charge?"  
She nodded and sighed, "Ah, yes, that one. He's your brother? I'm so sorry about what you're going through."  
"Thank you. I appreciate it." I faked a smile.  
"I'll go give your order to the chef, on the house."  
I shook my head, "That isn't necessary."  
The waitress waved away the idea with her hand, "Please, after what you've been through? You deserve a break."  
She scurried of into the kitchen and I stood up slowly, shoving quarters aggressively into the payphone on the wall. My fingers pounded on the numbers and my foot tapped impatiently as it rang. This phone call would be my ticket out of this hell. If only he would pick up the damn phone.  
"H-Hello?" A raspy voice answered.  
I smiled, "Harold."


End file.
